Spring fell into the twisted barbed arms of summer, and from it’s shredded flesh spread a grapefruit red cross the concrete. A haze heat rose everywhere - out the gutters or breath from the tiny bulbs withering through the rusty gates which lined every edge of the view. yes yes yes, that summer brought our faces a gaze mask fuming words from slit mouths.
Khalil wrote the names of angels on his neighbors’ door mats to keep away the friday ghouls. He was pious and drunk. We warned against setting foot in front of the ogre’s red door -
He: the door from which the floods of Noah slowly leak as God’s promises are broken by the sons of the son of man?
We: The sea creatures spread their wreaths upon the feat of visitors which then turn to coral. The ogre tempts you with his daughter - her hair the sea - and he devours you slowly. first the flesh, then the eyes, then…
Then the slow migration to the third world HA HA HA
The heat was so thick I could hardly see if it was Khalil at all. his mouth leaked slow words as he approached the red door- he a crab before it’s looming presence
He wrote the names of the four archangels
her hair flowed from a mirror to the edge of the sea
her beauty was unlike anything I had ever seen
and as I reached out to touch and clear away her constant tears
the ogre smashed Khalil’s head against the concrete
we drank to his memory that night
The Pious drunk: I saw his spirit flown away in the arms of Azrael!
We all laughed and laughed and laughed - because we knew his soul was spread out like his brains - a grapefruit red cross the concrete
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